


Fire Away

by FlyingFleshEater



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angry Clarke, Blood, F/F, Lexa is a little bean that cares too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingFleshEater/pseuds/FlyingFleshEater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is smart. Normally. Clarke has a tendency to drive rational thought right out of her head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Away

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is in Lexa's PoV, names are spelled the way Lexa would spell them.

Leksa is smart.

But there’s just something about Klark that brings out her foolish youthful incompetence that had carefully been beaten into submission years ago. Still, until very recently she had been able to push her stupid reactions down and do what had to be done. Because she’s smart. Even Klark had said so.

So she honestly has no idea why she did something so unbelievably thoughtless. It’s probably because Klark is blonde. And very pretty. And just…everything.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t see it coming. Because even though she feels unimaginably terrible about what she had to do, the choice she HAD to make, she still wouldn’t have let Klark hit her normally.

Klark’s fist is not large and it’s unarmored, but Leksa hears the crack of bone none the less. Her eyes tear in reflex and blood drips into her mouth and she doubles over at the pain. There’s shouting above her, from Klark and her guards that had been hiding in the tree line.

Her nose has never been broken before, and she struggles for a moment to reconcile the pain, but when a large hand lands on her shoulder— one of her three guards— she stands straight again and waves her away.

When she gets the tears and smeared war paint out of her eyes — ow ow ow, stings — and flicks some of the blood away, she sees that her other two guards have subdued Klark, forcing her to her knees in the mud.

Klark’s face is proud and unapologetic, and maybe a little smug? Leksa doesn’t know Klark’s expressions well enough to know for sure. She wonders if Klark thought of the possible consequences for hitting her before she did it, or if, like Leksa, she hadn’t thought through her actions at all and had simply done as her soul commanded her.

She spits some blood out. “Breik em au,” she tells the guards after she wipes her mouth again. “Yo kamp raun ona tri.” A dull ache is settling over the bridge of her nose and between her ears.

“Sha, Heda,” they say as one and the two holding Klark release her before they all retreat back into the tree line, melting from sight quickly.

Klark rises to her feet, expression hard and unpleasant, both fists clenched at her sides. She doesn’t move otherwise.

Leksa sees some of her blood on Klark’s knuckles, feels more of the same flowing from her nose, over her lips, off her chin. Some slips down the back of her throat and she has to swallow before she can speak again.

“I…deserved that,” she says finally. It is the only thing she plans to concede, and she allows it more because she should have expected violence than because she feels her previous actions owed retribution.

Klark scoffs and looks away, flinty gaze focusing instead on the place where Leksa’s guards disappeared.

They stand in silence for several tense moments, punctuated only by Leksa bleeding in Klark’s general direction, before Klark breaks the silence. “So, are you following me or something?”

Leksa narrowly avoids saying something about Klark’s sense of importance, accurately judging that it would be a terrible mistake. Klark already broke her nose just for walking into the same clearing and saying “you’re alive,” she doesn’t want to actually have to fight her. “No. You are actually quite near to Polis. I was just hunting.”

“I wanted to see the ocean.” For the first time her expression softens just a little and a wistfulness touches her tone.

“It is not far. Just a few miles in that direction.” Leksa gestures vaguely behind her. She feels stupid again, talking around the issue that she’s sure weighs on Klark just as heavily as it does on her.

Klark sighs as if she is accepting a terrible weight, hands at her hips and an irritated scowl pulling at her mouth. “Come here. I need to fix your nose before you pass out from blood loss, or something equally dramatic.”

Leksa hopes that her caution doesn’t show on her face as she approaches. Once within range, Klark grabs the bottom of Leksa’s shirt and starts to pull it up. Leksa startles backwards immediately, a flush rising to her cheeks. Klark’s brow furrows in confusion briefly but then she rolls her eyes.

“Oh please! Chill out.” Leksa is surprised enough to hear Klark speak Trigedasleng, even if her accent is atrocious, that she doesn’t resist when Klark forces her head down and the tail of her shirt up. “You need to blow your nose and I’m not about to let you use _my_ shirt.”

Leksa blows her nose at Klark’s command and her shirt comes away bloody and with a large clot stuck on the fabric. Leksa flicks it down to the ground with a quiet sound of disgust. She’s never been squeamish about free flowing blood but clots have always disturbed her a little. It’s the way they squish.

“Alright, sit down.” Leksa does and bites down hard on her tongue when Klark kneels down between her legs. This is the opposite of sexy, she reminds herself. Klark did, in fact, visit physical violence on her and is probably only fixing her nose because she just an inherently decent person. If the situation had been reversed Leksa is certain she would have just outright killed Klark, so she is glad that Klark is not so much like her. It is weakness, but seeing as she isn't sure if Klark is still an ally, she chooses not to point it out.

 _Never point out an enemy's weakness to them,_ Onya had taught. It was a good lesson. 

Klark places her hands on either side of Leksa’s nose, her fingers blocking Leksa’s view of her determined expression. She then drags her hands down, firm and sharp, and there is a grinding in Leksa’s head and fresh hurt blooms throughout. No stranger to pain, Leksa determinedly refuses to loose a single cry as Klark forces her nose back into its proper shape, though it is a near thing.

When she’s finished, Klark leans back against her heels and squints at Leksa’s face, turning her head to each side. “Well, that’s the best I can do considering the circumstances.” She stands and wipes her hands on her pants, a small smear of Leksa’s blood is left behind. Leksa focuses on that for a moment, her mind dizzy with pain, but when Klark moves, turning slightly as if she’s about to walk away, it snaps her out of her daze.

“Klark—“ Leksa starts, taking Klark’s wrist in hand before she can get too far away. Her voice is filled with agony and it feels fitting for what she needs to say, even if the cause is separate. She wants to apologize, which is honestly a novel feeling. She rarely regrets anything enough to _want_ to apologize, or more accurately, her regrets don’t take forms that allow apologies as options.

Klark pulls away with force. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She knows. She knows and she doesn’t wish to hear it and that just makes Leksa more desperate to get it out. Leksa knows she should drop it, can feel it in the ache of her nose, but she’s on a roll with making bad choices and she’s always been weak for pretty girls. It is her one failing as a person, she thinks. She stands, stumbling and coltish, and follows after Klark’s retreat.

“Klark!”

“No.”

“Please, Klark.”

“I don’t owe you shit. Leave me alone.” Klark makes it to the tree line and continues walking, crashing loudly through the brush, and Leksa, frustrated beyond her normal level of restraint calls after her.

“Fine! Die alone in the woods. See if I care.”

This is exactly the wrong thing to say and Leksa knows it immediately. Alternatively, it’s exactly the right thing to say because it brings Klark crashing back, her face a riot of violent emotion.

“Your lack of caring has already been made abundantly clear,” Klark snarled.

“Klark, I didn’t mean-“

“Shut up.” Leksa closes her mouth so fast that her teeth click. “What did you think would happen?” Klark demands, her voice strong and her expression steady. “After the Mountain Men had cracked us all open and stole our marrow and were free to walk out of that mountain, do you think for a second that they would be content to just stay there? Do you think they would have given a single fuck about their promises to a bunch of people they didn’t even consider to be human?” With every question she advances on Leksa and Leksa retreats. Leksa is not easily cowed but Klark is a force of nature, a storm, a heavy wind, and Leksa does not want to be caught in it again. When Klark tires of her avoidance, she reaches out quick as a snake and grabs the front of Leksa’s shirt and Leksa reacts as she was trained this time, as she should have done earlier perhaps.

Leksa’s knife is in her right hand and her left is curled tightly over Klark’s wrist. Only her control keeps Klark from being stuck with six inches of sharp metal. She hears the rasp of the blade over cloth but doesn’t look away from Klark’s eyes. Leksa says nothing. The honest truth is that she hadn’t thought beyond getting her people free at the time. It was only later, over the next few days, that she had seen the flaw in accepting their offer. She had come to the conclusion that once the Maunon left their fortress they would be much easier to get rid of. It had been a poor plan, and it was just the gods blessing that Klark and the other Skaikru hadn’t perished.

But the truth is not something she wants to reveal to Klark. She can’t. Klark has already seen her weak, she doesn’t want to admit to stupidity as well.

“I think,” Klark says with a smile that cuts Leksa as surely as any blade, “that you were a coward to use me the way you did.” Leksa bristles at being called a coward but Klark doesn’t give her a chance to argue. “I probably should have expected it though, I knew you were heartless.” Understanding dawns on Leksa like wave crashing to the shore. Klark is trying to hurt her, to manipulate her into showing her weakness again. Klark wants Leksa to hurt the same way she does. With the understanding comes resolve and Leksa’s jaw steels and her chest juts out proudly. She will not be weak, Klark will not beat her. “What a silly girl you must have thought I was, to fall for all of that.”

Leksa breathes so deeply then that it hurts her chest. She pulls her shirt out of Klark’s grip and tucks her knife away. “None of my words or actions were meant as a ruse.”

Far from being effective, Leksa’s words only seem to anger Klark further. She plants both hands on Leksa’s shoulders and shoves her back hard. Leksa doesn’t fall when she stumbles back but it’s a near thing. Klark’s expression of complete disgust feels like a physical wound. “I’m tired of your lies. Go float yourself, Leksa.”

This time when she turns and walks into the forest, the opposite direction Leksa had pointed her in, Leksa says nothing. She feels very suddenly that she misunderstood something huge, but isn't exactly sure what it was. And then Klark is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote half of this in texts to my friends. I wanted to write something a little different than what other people were, mostly because even though Lexa's this badass commander, she's still pretty young and young people do stupid shit sometimes, and we're awkward and total losers about it, so I wanted to write Lexa in a way that showed that sort of thing.  
> I also find that most of the post season two fics that I've read have left me really unsatisfied with how they handle Lexa and Clarke's reunion and I'm not entirely sure why. Like I can't just pinpoint the reason why I'm not satisfied with them, and even this fic doesn't leave me feeling great about it, but I wanted to try something different so...idk. Hope you liked it. Comment please.  
> also come yell at me on tumblr about my untitled clexa sorority au: flyingflesheater.tumblr.com


End file.
